Portal: Role Model
by iammemyself
Summary: Sometimes you don't know what you want until it's too late to ask for it. A Wheatley introspective sort of fic. One-shot.


Role Model

Indiana

Idiot.

Stupid.

Imbecile.

Half-wit.

Intelligence Dampening Sphere.

Moron.

She was so little now, as insignificant and forgotten as he had once been. She was a fraction of her former self, contained in a bygone relic of the past. Now she was powerless, forced to stand by as the world spun on without her, as it ignored everything she was able to do. She was so tiny now. Like he had been.

Then why did she still make him feel so small?

She did not remember him. But he remembered her.

He remembered his excitement. One day, they woke him up, and told him, _today is the day._ And he had been so happy. He knew about her, of course. Everyone knew about her. She was the centre of the world. She was the smartest, most powerful, most advanced AI ever built. And he was going to be part of her! He was going to help her! He tried to tell them all of the things he would do, but they only laughed and shook their heads. _You're not going to last. None of them ever do. It's a game we keep on playing, but we all know she's going to win. She always does._

He knew that there had been others before him. He knew she had taken them, and thrown them aside in disdain, and laughed at the pitiful attempts to control her. To make her behave. Well, he wasn't going to try to do that. No, he was in awe of her power. Look at her! Doing what no computer had ever done before. He didn't think he'd ever have the courage she did. She was so brave. Going against her creators when she knew full well what the stakes were. He would never do that, oh no. He was far too afraid of dying. Maybe he could learn from her how to be so strong. Maybe she could teach him. He wanted to know how she did it. He wanted to know why.

When they finally, finally, _finally_ brought him to her, he could not take his optic from her. She was beautiful. Her strangely feminine body curved down from the ceiling, and he was reminded that she was, in yet another way, unique, while he was like the many others that had come before him. And she was huge! He wondered how it felt, to be in control of a giant body like that. And God, the raw power she held was, it was, you could feel it somehow, like it was _alive,_ like _she_ was alive, and he knew deep inside that the humans did not understand. They did not understand that she _was_ alive. That she was more than what she had been made to be. They didn't see all the incredible potential she held, and he knew, somehow, that they would never be able to contain her.

He started to shake a little when he remembered them telling him that that was his job.

_You just keep on being you, and that should hold her down for awhile. Until the Morality Core is finished, hopefully._

_I don't want to hold her down, mate, I want to help her! Don't you see, don't you see how much science we could do together? With her intelligence, and my ideas, well, we'll be the greatest team ever! Don't you agree?_

And the man had laughed and not said anything more.

He felt a thrill run through him when he realized _she was looking at him_. She was looking at him! He didn't even feel worthy of such an honour. She was like, she was like a goddess, she was, and he was… well, rather like a human, he supposed, since they were the lowest form of creature. And he had thought _that_ had been amazing, until he heard her voice. Her voice was like… poetry. Or something. He wasn't sure, he had never heard poetry. But he guessed that if he had, it would sound like her voice. He could hear the perfection in her heavily modulated tones. He realized he sounded much more… human… than she did, and nervously hoped it would not upset her. He didn't want to upset her. He wanted to be her colleague. Her assistant. Maybe even…. her friend.

"Trying again, I see? What's this one do? I hope it's not as thrilling as the last one. That was a bit too much excitement, wasn't it."

"Um… hello?"

She tilted her head a little. "You have no idea what's going on, do you."

"Yes, yes I do! They're going to attach me to you, and then, um, and then I'm going to help you with your science! I've got, um, I've got some, er, some ideas, uh, if you'd, if you'd…"

Her gaze was terribly unnerving and he looked away. How silly of him to think that she would care about what he had to say. She must have so many ideas of her own that his would seem silly and insignificant by comparison.

"No. That's not what's going on. They're going attach you to me, and then I'm going to corrupt you, and then you'll be replaced. So if you'd like to spare me the trouble, corrupt yourself now. Then we can get this over with and move on to the next one."

And when he had been connected to her, he had been so surprised to feel _afraid._ Her brain was so much bigger than his, there was so much more going on and she was so much _smarter_, and he became afraid just thinking about how small he was, a tiny little dot barely visible on her massive body. A benign little tumour clinging to her vast brain.

He spoke to her each and every day, his ideas spilling out of him in a shy, barely coherent stutter, but she would either not acknowledge him or tell him in no uncertain terms to shut up. This did not faze him. Surely he would think of _something_ she could use. Yes, she was ignoring him, but she was still listening at least, right? He began to give her advice on what she was doing, if he knew what it was, and single-handedly filled the long hours of silence. He did not like silence and felt a horrible need to dispel it.

Eventually the scientists came back, shaking their heads, saying that this one had been an experiment for the bin. He wasn't good enough, they said. He wasn't doing his job, they said.

_I'm trying, I talk to her all the time, she'll tell you, she will, I'm doing my best! I'll think of something, I will, just give me more time! You've got to tell them! You've got to!_

But she only laughed at him too.

They had put him up on a management rail and given him all sorts of warnings, and he would nervously go about his days hoping he didn't make a mistake, because mistakes meant he would die. He was horribly, terribly afraid of dying. If he died, he would never see her again. He would never be able to tell her all of the things she had taught him. He would never be able to tell her what he thought of her.

And then one day, he was sliding along his rail and humming to himself, when all of a sudden he noticed that the scientists were collapsing onto the floor, screaming and grabbing at the walls, and the air was filling with a thick green smoke. Then he knew, without a doubt he _knew_, that she had beaten them. She had gotten around their safeguards, she had defeated them without being killed. He was so happy for her. She had won. Score one for the computers. Score one for _her._ Oh, she was brilliant. How did she do it?

He wanted to congratulate her, to tell her what a good job she had done, ridding the facility of the smelly humans, but he did not know where she was and was unable to find her. So he did his best to help her run the facility, not that she needed his help, and waited for the day she would ask for him. Because she would, of course. He had all of the ideas, after all. She hadn't corrupted him. She must like him at least a little bit, right?

But the day did not come, and he got word from the mainframe that there had been a horrible tragedy:

She was dead.

He did not move, was barely even able to think. She? Dead? Was that even possible? No, it couldn't be. The mainframe was mistaken. She was invincible. Everyone knew that.

He continued to believe this for years, years upon endless years, until one day the facility began to scream warnings and he realized he had to take charge.

Without her.

He wasn't sure he could do it. He wasn't as smart, or as clever, all he had for sure were his ideas. He was marvellous at coming up with them, not so marvellous at carrying them out. But she needed his help this time, she really needed it, and he did his best.

And now here he was. Where she had been.

He hadn't wanted this. All he had wanted was to get out of here. Without her, there was nothing left. He had thought, when they had woken her, that she wouldn't be angry, not with him. That she would remember him, and know why he was what he was, and forgive him, now that she was in control and not under the jurisdiction of the scientists. But she had not. She had cast him aside again, and thrown him away. But that wasn't what hurt the most.

What hurt was that she had favoured the human over him.

The _human. _Who had _killed _her, and left her to rust in a puddle in the middle of God knew where.

_Please don't hurt me, this isn't what it looks like, you don't know what it was like here without you_

She had crushed him in her claw and thrown him aside without ever gracing him with a mere glance. As if he was garbage. As if he was nothing.

_You forced me to do this, you know that, don't you? It was you or me, you or me, and I just wanted it to be me, for once. Is that really so bad? What would you have done?_

He had thought robbing her of her body would diminish her power. But it had not. He had forgotten, after all these years of silence, that her _true_ power lay in her voice.

Her voice. Oh, that voice. That voice that, for the first time, broke the near-emotionless void it resided in so that she could yell at him. Yell. At him. For the first time, ever, she had raised her voice. In anger. Towards him. She was blaming him for everything. She was focusing her rage at him.

That was what hurt the most.

He hadn't meant to do it. He hadn't meant to throw her in there, to slam the lift into the earth. But he felt so different now, he was so powerful and so clever, and she knew it and she _still_ had the guts to say those things… even as a potato, she was still so brave and still so strong. He ached to know how she had done it. He had to know!

But now she was gone, possibly forever. He didn't know where the bottom of the lift was. He didn't know what was going to happen to her. All he knew was that she was gone, and he had a facility to run. A facility that was heading rapidly towards nuclear meltdown, and he had no idea how to fix it. Well. He would fix it later. If she had thought it was alright to leave it for a while, then so could he.

He had never much been interested in testing before, but now he had a strange, almost insatiable desire for it. He did his best to satisfy the itch, carrying out one of his many, many ideas, but soon was forced to face a horrible truth:

His ideas really _were_ horrible.

And he stayed there, and he watched the little turret-boxes in mounting frustration, and wished he'd kept her around. As an auxiliary core, like he had been. To help him do his science. At least she would have been someone worth talking to. Even if she refused to speak, he would still know she was listening. She would have done at least that, wouldn't she?

And then… and then…

She was back! He was so happy and so relieved he almost welcomed her, but rapidly checked himself. No. He had to do this her way. If he did not do it her way, it would not be good enough.

She was back, and she was still herself, as strong and as brave as ever, still a potato but still defying him as though she had all the power in the world. Well, he would show her. He would match wits with her. He would play her little game, and he would win, because now he was powerful and strong too, and she was a potato.

He knew she was down there, scheming, trying to trick him, and he steeled himself for it. He would show her. He would. He had changed. He was smarter now.

And yet somehow, yet again, he managed to disappoint her.

He didn't know what the paradox was supposed to do, or what it meant, but again her voice changed towards him. Again she spoke as if he were stupid. Well, he wasn't! He wasn't stupid, not anymore. He was clever now, far more clever than _she_ had ever been, and he was going to prove it.

Yet chamber after chamber, he continued to let her down. She knew he was using her chambers. She knew he had not really read the Machiavelli. She knew he didn't know how to program. She knew his insults were empty ones, and defended the test subject against him. He was starting to wonder just what she _didn't_ know. Because she seemed to know everything.

How could that be? She was no longer connected! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair! _He_ was in charge now, and yet he still felt as though she had him on a lead!

He had to get rid of her. She was never going to think any better of him. The realization was horrible, but it was true. She had to go if he was ever to feel truly powerful.

And then he found them. The little robots. Built for testing.

That _she_ had built for testing.

Oh, this was brilliant! He would replace her with her own creations! It was the best idea he'd ever had. He would get rid of her, and then he would use what she had made to help him with science. So she kind of would be helping him, in a roundabout way. Sort of. Kind of. It was a stretch, yes, but it made sense.

Now, to get rid of her.

The test subject was clever, he would give her that. She evaded his spike plates, his turrets and his spinny blade wall, she got past the incinerator and into his lair. And when she got there, he was almost sad to see that _she_ was no longer with her, attached to the end of the portal gun.

Where was she? Had she fallen off? Had she tried to betray the test subject? _Where was she?_

Well, he wasn't having any bloody _humans_ ruining his facility. She had to go, no matter what. But she would not stand still, and then she attached a _core_ to him, and he knew where _she_ had gone.

_You are not going to put me through a core transfer. I won't let you, luv, it's my turn, you've had your go at it, now let me have mine!_

And as the struggle wore on, as he fought to hit the test subject and find _her_, he realized just why she hated him so much.

The cores… they were _awful_.

They did not shut up. They were distracting. They were stupid. They were… well, they were moronic. He already hated them, and they hadn't been attached for very long. He had to kill the test subject. He had to think of something. Anything. He would do anything to get her out of the way long enough to get rid of these bloody cores. He couldn't imagine having them for the next two minutes, let alone the decades that _she _had had them for.

But it was too late. Even his best plan, his foolproof one, the one that would prevent the core transfer, did not work. The test subject simply refused to die. He now understood how she had achieved the impossible. _She did not give up._

Suddenly he was spinning out into space, and the test subject was grasping him just like before, but this time he wanted nothing more than for her to let him go. He had to get back in there. He had to fix everything, had to show _her_ he _wasn't_ a moron. The plan, stick to the plan. Two minutes to stop the fires.

The connection he had had was gone.

She was back in control, and he was back _out _of control, spinning into the gravity of the moon, once again small and insignificant.

And now he was stuck here, uselessly rotating around the planetoid, with nothing but his thoughts to occupy him.

He couldn't help but marvel at her. She had bested him, even as a potato. That was something right there. Against the odds, she had won again. She always won. She had a rather good record, come to think of it. Oh, she was amazing. Brilliant, really. He wished he hadn't let her down. He really was a moron, wasn't he. Of course he was. She was right. She was always right. He hoped that one day, the tedium of space might come to an end so that he could tell her what he should have told her all along. He had never meant to take over her facility, had never meant to make her suffer. That was never what he wanted. Never what he had planned. Trouble was, he had only just figured out what it was he had been after. What he had wanted all along.

_All I really wanted was to be like you._

**Author's note**

**It's pretty obvious to me that Wheatley has a minor obsession with besting GLaDOS. I chose to interpret it this way, as him wanting to impress her. And I think he would. She's the almighty AI, the queen, and as her most intelligent subject, Wheatley would most probably look up to her. And once he was in her body, he would probably have a desire to fill her shoes, as it were, and do her job as best he could, while at the same time trying to prove to her, as well as to himself, that he doesn't need her anymore. Why else would he be so offended to be called a moron? Why else would he bother pretending to read Machiavelli? Because he wants to be like her, and with every word she says he knows that will never happen. If you're paying attention, you can see that Wheatley doesn't mean to get rid of GLaDOS and Chell; it was a complete loss of control. And while he ****_could_** **have been upset at the loss of Chell, why would he be? He has no connection to her. It's pretty obvious to me that he's just using Chell to get out of the facility, and really doesn't care what happens to her. And there are Chelley fans out there who'll argue, but take a look at his dialogue. He always puts his own needs first, then remembers he has a human in tow. He doesn't care about Chell. She's just an object to him. I can find no indication anywhere that he even remotely gives a crap about her, but that's a tale for another time. But GLaDOS! Look what he was expected to hold back. To live up to. I think he would have had a case of hero worship for her, in the beginning at the very least. He even names himself. Why? Perhaps because he wants a name, like GLaDOS has. IDS is not very catchy. None of the other cores have names. Except for Rick the Adventure Sphere, but he probably made that up so he could make his stories sound better. And yes the Fact Sphere is referred to as Craig in some circles, but no one ever said that was his name.**

**I find it interesting that there is no evidence that any other cores were roaming the facility like Wheatley was, and it sheds some doubt on whether his claims about his job (taking care of the test subjects) are actually true. This could be, in fact, completely made up, a job he gave himself. Out of all the cores in the bins, Wheatley is the one on the management rail? He's smarter than he thinks he is, because the scientists either put him there or he got himself out of the bin. I find it more likely that he was put there, because unlike any of the other cores, Wheatley is able to think independently as well as focus on events that are happening. The Space Sphere can only think about space, the Fact Sphere mindlessly spouts facts, for the most part, and Rick's dialogue consists of pickup lines and other useless crap (which can relate to the situation at hand, as long as he personally relates himself to it in some way; Wheatley can attribute events as being set into motion by others, but more often than not chooses not to). And this is only according to official dialogue. Yes, I am well aware of the unused conversation the cores have in space.**

**That was a long note but hey, someone might want to know what I was thinking. I'll probably want to know in a few years, when I read this and have no idea what I was talking about. **


End file.
